


The Sun and The Moon

by katedf



Series: Astronomy in Paradise [1]
Category: Death in Paradise
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-03
Updated: 2013-07-24
Packaged: 2017-12-17 14:11:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/868479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katedf/pseuds/katedf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Astronomical events give Richard and Camille a chance to spend time together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Last week’s full moon was a “supermoon,” a full moon that occurs when the moon is at its nearest to Earth. This happened the day after the summer solstice, so it was, astronomically speaking, a busy few days. Knowing Richard’s interest in astronomy, I had to write something to commemorate these events.

It wasn’t quitting time just yet, but Dwayne had already changed into his party clothes. His shirt was brighter than yellow crime-scene tape. The Solstice Festival had been going on since noon, and the music was getting louder by the minute.

They had closed another case that day, and the paperwork was finished. Richard looked at Dwayne, who sat at his desk, putting on cologne, getting ready to impress the ladies. 

“Dwayne.”

“Yes, Chief?”

“Go. The glow from your shirt is hurting my eyes. So go and do whatever it is you do to celebrate the solstice.”

“PARTY! Hey, now Chief, you aren’t going to skip the festival, are you? I’ll run down to the market and get you a Solstice t-shirt and you can be ready for the fun! You have to dress in yellow, it celebrates the sun.”

“That’s a common misunderstanding. The sun isn’t really yellow.”

“Of course it is,” said Camille. “Everyone knows that.”

“No. It gives off all wavelengths of color, which add up to white. When the light passes through the atmosphere, scattering changes the color we see.” Richard smiled and added, “Science!”

“Well, we are celebrating the sun as we see it!” said Camille. “Everyone wears yellow.”

“Not a good color on me, so I’ll pass. You might as well all leave now. We’ve tied up all the loose ends. So well done, team, enjoy your celebration. But not too much. We do have work tomorrow. Clear heads, please.”

Fidel picked up his mobile and called Juliet to see if she and Rosie were ready for the festival. “Don’t worry, Chief,” he said. “Juliet has Rosie with her, so we’ll make it an early night. Probably won’t be awake for the arrival of summer.”

“See you tomorrow,” said Camille as the two officers left. She turned to Richard, “You should stay in town for the festival. The solstice is just after midnight. That’s early for a festival on Saint Marie.”

“I’ll probably be able to hear it from my house. See the fireworks, anyhow.”

“Come on, Richard, even if you don’t stay late, you should come to La Kaz for a drink.”

“No, that’s all right. You go on. I have a few things to do here and then I’m going home.”

Camille walked up the hill to her house, muttering to herself the whole way. The man was impossible. He never wanted to have any fun! She changed into a yellow dress. Then, in a moment of inspiration, she added a lacy skirt under the dress. The ruffles just peeked out from the hem of the dress. Perfect!

Camille passed the police station and saw that the lights were still on. Richard’s avoidance of anything fun was ridiculous! She walked into the police station and planted herself in front of his desk.

“What do you have to do that’s so important? We double-checked everything, the case is closed. So some on! Time to party!”

“I don’t think so. Doesn’t this strike you as ridiculous? At the actual moment of solstice, when the sun is above the Tropic of Cancer, it will be facing the other side of the planet. Why are you celebrating the sun in the middle of the night?”

“Because we like a good party! Come on, Richard. I dressed especially for you.”

“No, you dressed in yellow, despite the fact that I explained that the sun is actually white.”

“I know,” she sat on his desk. “See, the dress is yellow, the color we see when we look at the sun, but—”

“You should never look directly at the sun. You’ll damage your eyes.”

“Don’t interrupt! The dress is yellow because we see the sun as yellow. BUT, underneath that, we know the sun is white.” Camille hiked up the skirt of the dress a bit to show the lacy ruffles. “See, scientific integrity is preserved, so it’s okay for you to come with me.”

Momentarily distracted by Camille’s legs, Richard had no answer.

Camille smiled. “So that’s settled. Shut down whatever it is you’re doing. What are you doing, anyway?”

“Checking moonrise and moonset. Tomorrow is actually a day more worth celebrating. There are two solstices each year. Tomorrow we have a supermoon, which is less common. The moon will reach perigee during a full moon. We won’t have a full moon this bright again for another three years.”

Richard grabbed a sheet of paper and started to draw a diagram. Camille pulled the pen out of his hand.

“No! That’s tomorrow. The solstice is tonight. I’ll make a deal with you. If you come to the solstice festival and have a drink with me, tomorrow I’ll listen to all the astrological—”

“ASTRONOMICAL! Astrology is bunk. Astronomy is SCIENCE.”

Camille giggled. She knew the difference, but it was soooo much fun winding him up about things like this.

“Okay, astronomical. Come to the festival tonight, and tomorrow I will look at the moon and listen to a complete lecture on the—what did you call it?”

“Supermoon.”

“Right, supermoon. So, do we have a deal?”

Richard knew when he was beaten, so he agreed. He shut down his computer, stood up, and reached for his jacket.

“No! No jacket. And lose the tie, too. It’s a FESTIVAL, not a business meeting.”

“That wasn’t part of the bargain.”

“It’s an amendment.”

“You can’t just amend an agreement like that.”

“All right, then, add your own amendment. What do you want in return?”

“I, uh, can’t think of something at the moment.”

“Fine, then we’ll leave it open. I agree to whatever amendment you want to make to the bargain. Now, can we go?”


	2. Chapter 2

Camille danced down the street, tugging Richard along. They saw Dwayne in a conga line of people dancing in a circle. He waved them over, but Camille shook her head and pointed toward La Kaz. Dwayne nodded and gave them a thumbs-up before slipping his arms tighter around the waist of the woman in front of him.

La Kaz was noisy and crowded, but they managed to make their way to the back where it was comparatively quiet. Catherine had cornered the market on yellow flowers. They seemed to be everywhere.

Catherine kissed her daughter. “You look lovely, ma chère. But, Richard, why are you not wearing yellow?”

“Because the sun is actually white, like his shirt,” said Camille. “Don’t ask.”

“Did you not believe me?” asked Richard. 

“Yes, I did believe you. But Maman does not need to hear the entire astro-NOM-I-CAL explanation!” Camille turned to her mother and said, “I’ll have a Sunny Rum, and Richard will have something other than tea.”

“Beer, please, Catherine.”

After she left, Richard asked Camille about her drink.

“It’s something Maman makes for the festival. It’s rum, Curacao, a little lemon juice. And she perches a slice of lemon on the glass to represent the sun. I like the combination of lime and rum better, but it’s the festival and that’s the festival drink. This may be the first time you get beer served in a glass. She’ll want to put a slice of lemon on that, too.”

Catherine returned quickly with their drinks and watched for the reaction. 

“My beer is glowing,” said Richard, frowning at the glass. He removed the slice of lemon. 

“Oooh, Maman, you found the sparklies again!” said Camille. Her drink was changing colors.

“Yes, I tracked them down online. It’s amazing what you can find on the Internet! I have them in the punch bowl, but I saved a few for special drinks.” Catherine watched Richard as he lifted his glass to see the glowing object in his drink. “It isn’t poisonous, Richard. Just a magic ice cube.”

“I know what it is. It isn’t magic. It contains diodes with a battery that’s activated by water. Without the water as a conductor, the diodes don’t light up. The water completes the circuit. When current flows, the diodes light up.”

By the time Richard had finished his explanation, Catherine was back at the bar. She watched how animated he was as he pointed to Camille’s drink and held up his own. Catherine also couldn’t help notice how fondly her daughter looked at him. A familiar voice interrupted her thoughts.

“So, is that a date?” asked Dwayne.

“I don’t know,” Catherine said. She handed Dwayne a beer.

“Well, I’m thinking it must be. She got him out of his jacket and tie. That doesn’t happen every day.”

“I’m a little more concerned about what he might get _her_ out of.”

“What, the Chief? No way. He knows she’s against the rules. Too bad, though, don’t you think?”

“You would wish him on Camille? He’s stuffy, serious, so … so ENGLISH!”

Dwayne fidgeted with the bottle for a moment. Despite his party-hearty attitude, he was nobody’s fool. He’d watched the two detectives sidle around each other for months. Catherine had probably seen it, too, but was choosing to ignore it. 

“Catherine, I am not the one wishing for that. She is. And all the blind dates in the world aren’t going to distract her.”

Catherine sighed, as she looked at the couple. Richard was holding Camille’s hand, and appeared to be speaking seriously.

Richard held Camille’s hand between his, explaining the semiconductor layers in a diode and why current would flow only one way through a diode. 

“That’s why, if you put a battery into something backwards, not only does the device not work, the diode saves the device from any damage that could be caused. It’s really very … boring, isn’t it?” He sighed. “Sorry… I get carried away.”

“No! It’s interesting. You know so much about so many things. Your degree is in history, yet you know a lot of science.”

“I suppose that’s what comes of being a compulsive reader. I’ve always found science and technology interesting. I thought about studying science, but it ends up being so much math. I like the cause-and-effect nature of science. It’s like a puzzle. You want to find out why things happen, like solving a crime. If I’d done a degree in science, I might have gone on to forensics.”

“Would you have liked that?”

“In some ways, yes. It would be exciting to have all that technology to work with. But then I’d do only part of the work, and I like seeing all the pieces of the puzzle, not just one aspect of it.” 

“Puzzles. Something you can do on your own. I’m glad you didn’t go into forensics. You’d probably never leave the lab. You’d be holed up in some lab in London, and you’d never have been sent to Saint Marie, and…”

_and we’d never have met._ Richard finished the thought. He looked down and noticed that he was still holding Camille’s hand. He quickly removed his hands and raised his glass to finish his beer.

“Would you like another drink?” he asked.

“It’s all right, Richard. You’ve done your part of the bargain. It’s getting loud and crowded. I’ll walk you back to the station.”

Camille picked up the vase of yellow flowers from their table. She held it up and waved to her mother. Catherine waved back and nodded. 

“Your mother seems to have bought every yellow flower on the island. Whatever is going on, she gets into the spirit of it.”

“Look around, Richard. Everyone here gets into the spirit of festivals. Well, ALMOST everyone.” She looked at the market stalls and had an idea. “I know how to get you into the spirit. Festival food!”

“What, from a stall?”

“Come on, Richard! London must have street food. Every city does.”

“Well, yes, there are food stalls at markets in London. But I know what _that_ food is.”

“I know what _this_ food is. You have to have supper, so take some of this home. I’ll tell you what everything is. How about curry? The English love curry. I read somewhere that it’s more popular than roast beef.”

“Yes, I like curry,”

“All right, then we’ll start with roti. Chicken. I don’t think you’re ready for goat. Unless…?”

“Chicken.”

“Good!” Camille bought two of the wraps, a fishcake, and added rice to the order. From another stall, she bought deep-fried bananas.

“That’s a lot of food, Camille,” said Richard.

“I’m going to eat some of it, too. Oh! Sugar cakes! You have to try these!” She handed Richard the bag of food and the vase of flowers, and darted over to the stall.

She came back smiling, “They’re yellow! Traditionally, they’re pink. No, I don’t know why. But they’re yellow in honor of the sun. Sorry, Richard, they didn’t have any that are white.”

Richard held out the vase, “Could you please carry the flowers? I’ve been getting some odd looks.”

Camille took the flowers and started to walk up the hill.

“Where are you going?”

“Home. The food will get cold before you get home. So let’s eat it at my house.”

“I thought we were going back to the station.”

“It will be nicer eating at my table on real dishes. Come on!”

Forgetting that he was carrying most of the food, which could have served as a bargaining chip, Richard followed Camille up the hill.


	3. Chapter 3

Richard had to admit it, sitting at Camille’s kitchen table was pleasant. The food was surprisingly good, too. The curry was very spicy, and he reached for his beer.

“Eat some rice,” said Camille, seeing Richard’s eyes water. “Carbs take out the burn better than beer. That’s why so many spicy things are served with rice. But not chili peppers. For that, you drink milk.”

“You’re right about the milk. Casein, a protein in milk, actually surrounds the capsaicin of the pepper, and that stops the burn.”

“Science, again?”

“Science is EVERYWHERE, Camille! Your mother runs a restaurant. You probably know more food science than you realize.”

“All right, then, Mr. Science. Look at the food we’re eating. Except for the rice, what does it have in common?”

“It’s fried. A lot of street food is deep-fried. People enjoy that sort of thing for a treat. They may avoid greasy food normally, but they get seduced by the smells and the thought of the crunch.”

“There’s more to it than marketing. There’s a reason. A SCIENCE reason, Richard.”

Richard knew, but he was enjoying listening to Camille, so he said, “What’s the reason?”

“Heat. And, by the way, fried food does not have to be greasy. If the oil is hot enough, the food doesn’t absorb it. Fried food is very hot. That kills bacteria. It’s food safety as much as it is crunch. Try the fishcake.”

Richard tasted a piece of the fishcake. His eyes widened. “Salt cod?”

“Yes. Very clever!”

“I’ve had fishcakes before. Mum used to make them, but these have a different taste. Slightly sweeter.”

“Yes, the version this vendor makes uses cornmeal, which adds a touch of sweetness.”

“Where else does this vendor sell? I could become addicted to these.”

“He has a little shack about a quarter of the way around the island. You’ve probably passed it.”

“If we pass it again, show me. These are delicious!”

Camille declined Richard’s offer of help with the washing up. She drove him home and made him keep the vase of flowers and one of the sugar cakes. As she drove home, Camille smiled. He’d gone out sans jacket and tie. He’d eaten street food. And, much to his surprise, he’d enjoyed it! Maybe she could teach him to love Saint Marie, after all.

-o-o-o-o-

Richard sat on his veranda. He wanted a cup of tea, but was too stuffed to move. He still couldn’t believe how good the food had been. He wondered briefly if he’d feel any ill effects the next day. He’d rarely eaten “street food” at home. Any take-away food he ate had come from shops, not street stalls or vans. Camille was right, though. The high-temperature cooking did kill bacteria, and it didn’t matter if the hot oil was in a shop or a portable fryer. 

It had been cozy and incredibly domestic eating in Camille’s kitchen. He usually ate at home, alone. If he ate with the team, they generally went to Catherine’s. But this evening had felt so different. Comfortable. And they hadn’t argued at all. Camille hadn’t made one sarcastic or teasing comment. They’d had real conversations. It was almost like—but of course it wasn’t. Because they shouldn’t. But he’d really like to do it again.

Eventually, he did get up to make his cup of tea. He tried one of the sugar cakes. Aptly named, he thought. It was far too sweet for his taste. He liked things that were a little sweet, not cakes that made one’s teeth hurt. Oh, for a piece of shortbread, or the “fly’s graveyards” his grandmother used to make. He wondered if there were Caribbean versions of those treats.

-o-o-o-o-

When Camille got home, she was still smiling. Who knew that she could spend a pleasant evening with Richard without him doing something annoying? And it had been sweet of him to offer to help with the dishes. She declined the offer because the evening was already getting a bit too domestic. Odd how something as utilitarian as washing dishes could seem almost intimate. Well, maybe not intimate. But cozy, comfortable. 

Since the festival was still in full swing, she walked back to La Kaz.

“Camille!” Catherine called to her. “Where have you been?”

Camille perched on a bar stool. “You won’t believe it, Maman. On the walk back to the station, I bought food from the stalls, and Richard ate it with me.”

“This is the same Richard who is afraid to try any foods he hasn’t been eating since he was four, right?”

“I know! After we ate, he offered to help with the dishes, isn’t that sweet?”

“Dishes? Where did you eat?”

“At home. We were headed back to the station, and then I thought it would be nicer to eat at a proper table, so we went to my place. Funny, I don’t think I’ve ever invited a date to eat in my kitchen. Not that this was a date or anything like that. But I always go out to eat with someone. This was different. Nice.”

“But it wasn’t a date?”

“No! We just happened to eat together. Oh! I need to think about tomorrow.”

“What about tomorrow?”

“It’s a supermoon. A big-deal full moon if you’re into astronomy, which Richard is. I traded him the solstice festival for the supermoon.”

"You traded?”

“Yes, we agreed that if he would come here for a festival drink, I would go to look at the giant moon tomorrow. I don’t know what time, but the full moon rises around sunset, so that would probably be another supper. Help me think of something to do for a picnic. Maybe I can get him to agree to that as his amendment.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The terms of the deal. It would take too long to explain. But I owe him something unspecified, and I thought maybe a picnic supper would convince him not to make me do something I don’t want to do.”

Catherine looked alarmed, “What do you think he’d make you do?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Not speak a word of French all evening. Agree not to interrupt his interminable lecture on astronomy.”

“You owe him an unspecified favor, and you think it would be about talking?”

“Yes. Well, Maman, this is _Richard,_ after all.”

-o-o-o-o-

Richard decided not to stay up to watch the fireworks. If Camille had stayed at the beach house instead of dropping him off, he’d have watched with her. But he had work the next morning, and he liked to have a clear head. He left the veranda doors open. If he wasn’t sleeping too soundly, perhaps the sounds would wake him.

Richard was in the middle of a very pleasant dream when he heard pop! pop-pop-pop-POP! bang! His house was fairly isolated, but there were houses back in the trees across the road. Someone was setting off firecrackers. He looked at his watch. It was nearly midnight. Might as well go out to the veranda and watch the fireworks.

Watching the fireworks reminded Richard of England. He remembered Bonfire Nights when he was at university. It was a good night for a date. Sitting outside on a November night, wrapped together in an old blanket to keep warm. Other activities to keep warm… 

How had he changed so much from the happy university student? Being alone had become a self-reinforcing feeback loop. He’d feel awkward and retreat. Do things on his own. That made him worse at social interactions. So he’d retreat more. It was comfortable, but it was boring. If he’d asked Camille, would she have stayed to watch the fireworks with him? 

-o-o-o-o-

Camille found Dwayne in the crowd. He had a lady friend with him. No surprise there. Camille asked him if they were staying for the fireworks. Dwayne said something about making their own fireworks, and the woman giggled. Camille said goodnight and walked to a spot where she could see the fireworks.

Wooossssh pop! crackle crackle cracke. Cascades of color. Camille remembered Bastille Day in Paris. The fireworks were amazing. The crowds were huge. She found herself chuckling. If they’d gotten into a discussion of fireworks, she’d have mentioned Bastille Day, and that would have set Richard off on one of his anti-French tirades. She enjoyed the tirades. There was something endearing about him when he was in full rant. But this evening had been quiet, and that was even better. 

Blue, red, green. A big white flash with a BANG! She remembered from school that different elements produced different colors. But she didn’t remember which was which. Richard would know, of course. She wondered if he’d stayed up to watch. She wondered what the fireworks looked like from his veranda. If she’d stayed instead of dropping him off… No, he probably didn’t think of fireworks as remotely romantic. Just a starting point for a chemistry lecture. As the finale popped and banged and lit up the night, Camille thought about Dwayne and his lady friend and their plan for private fireworks. What would it be like with Richard? Would there be fireworks?


	4. Chapter 4

Fidel was at his desk when Richard arrived the next morning.

“Good morning, Chief.”

“Good morning, Fidel. Did you enjoy the festival?”

“Yes, but we didn’t stay very late because Rosie was tired. Just as well. I don’t know how she’d do with the fireworks. Those big flash-bang ones are so loud. I’ve seen little kids cry at fireworks before.”

“Magnesium flashes. They can be too loud for comfort. Tell you what, next time there are fireworks, you should watch from my veranda. You can see the lights, but it isn’t so noisy.”

“Did you stay in town for the fireworks? I thought I saw you and Camille go into La Kaz.”

“She talked me into a drink.”

“And some street food!” said Camille triumphantly, as she walked into the station.

“Street food? Really?” Fidel was impressed. He knew that Camille could talk almost anyone into almost anything, but the Chief eating street food was truly a wonder.

“Yes,” said Richard. “I have to admit the fishcakes were delicious. But I couldn’t manage this.”

Camille took the bag he held out. “You didn’t like the sugar cake?”

“God no, it’s too sweet. Each one should come with a syringe of insulin! What’s in those things?”

“Sugar,” Camille laughed. “They are called _sugar_ cakes, after all. And coconut and a little ginger. 

“Too sweet for my taste,” said Richard. He looked around and asked, “Where’s Dwayne this morning?”

“He may be tired today,” said Camille. When I saw him, he and a lady friend were headed off together for the fireworks.”

“Why didn’t they stay in town?”

“They were going to make fireworks of their own.”

“I thought fireworks were illegal,” said Richard. “I mean, not the professional ones, but firecrackers and roman candles and such.”

Camille started to laugh.

“What?”

She kept laughing.

Richard turned to Fidel, “Do you know what’s so funny?”

Fidel thought he did, but said, “Don’t know, Chief.”

“Camille?” Richard asked impatiently.

“I’ll explain later, when we watch the supermoon.”

“What’s a supermoon?” asked Fidel. 

_Thank you!_ thought Camille, grateful that the discussion of personal fireworks was over. 

Richard launched into a discussion of perigee and apogee and phases of the moon. Fidel listened so earnestly that Camille nearly started laughing again. 

Dwayne strolled in a few minutes later. “Mornin’,” he said softly.

“So, Dwayne,” asked Richard. “How were the fireworks?”

Camille was in the process of sitting down as he said that, and nearly toppled off her desk chair. 

“What?” asked Richard.

Fortunately, the phone rang, and conversation stopped.

Dwayne and Fidel left to investigate some damage that had been done by revelers the night before. Richard got trapped in an interminable conversation with one of the prosecuting attorneys. When he finally got off the phone, he went to get a bottle of water from the fridge. He asked Camille why she laughed at his question about fireworks.

She walked to the coffee pot and poured a mug of coffee for herself. As she passed Richard, she stood very close and whispered in his ear, “Sex. It can be like fireworks when it’s really good, you know?”

Richard turned scarlet, just in time for the return of the two officers.

“Chief, you okay?” asked Dwayne.

“Um, yeah, I’m fine.” Richard returned to his desk, thinking he’d never be able to watch fireworks again.

Camille saved him by asking Dwayne, “What was the damage like? Any idea who did it?”

They discussed the case. It didn’t seem as if they’d find the responsible parties, so Richard told Fidel to write up a report for the bar owner to use for an insurance claim. The rest of the day was quiet, with no further discussion of fireworks of any kind. 

After Dwayne and Fidel left, Camille said, “I looked up moonrise, and it’s around 8:30. We need to go to the other side of the island to see moonrise. So I thought I’d make a picnic and we could eat at the beach. Ambrose Point is a good spot.”

“On the beach? We’ll get sandy.”

“I have a big blanket. We can manage to eat without getting too sandy.”

“Let’s eat somewhere on the way.”

“All right. But I’m bringing some beer for the beach. And some of Neille’s ginger biscuits from the market for dessert.”


	5. Chapter 5

Camille loaded the Rover with her blanket and other beach supplies, plus the beer and biscuits. She took Richard to a small restaurant, where they had an early supper. Richard was delighted that it was one of those restaurants that use sheets of heavy paper to cover the tablecloth. He pulled out a pen and began his lecture. 

“Orbits tend not to be circular. They’re elliptical, or oval. Earth is at one of the foci, or focal points, of the moon’s elliptical orbit.”

“What’s at the other focal point?”

“Nothing.”

“Oh. Why doesn’t Earth’s gravity just pull the orbit into a circle?”

“Orbiting objects change speed depending on where they are in the ellipse. Keppler’s Laws explain this.” He looked at Camille, and added, “Do you want the mathematical proof?”

“No thank you.”

“Right, then suffice it to say that when the moon is closest to Earth it’s moving fastest and when it’s farthest from Earth it’s moving slowest, and that causes the elliptical path. These laws apply to the orbits of planets around the sun, too.”

Camille pointed at Richard’s drawing and said, “So the moon is now here, the closest point to Earth?”

“Yes, very good! And, because the sun is over here,” he added another item to the drawing, “its light shines on the side of the moon facing us, giving us a full moon.”

Richard nattered on about phases of the moon until the waiter set down his dinner, eclipsing both moon and sun.

-o-o-o-o-

When they got to Ambrose Point, there were only a few other people on the beach. Most of them were packing up to go home. Camille spread out the blanket and plopped down on it. Richard sat down warily. Camille handed him a beer, which distracted him from fidgeting. He gradually relaxed and launched into another astronomical lecture. He explained why the moon would look larger at moonrise than it would higher in the sky.

“When we see the moon at the horizon, we see other objects near it. Not really near it, but in our line of sight. They serve as reference points. The moon is larger than those objects, so we interpret that information as the moon being very large. When the moon is high in the sky, there are no nearby reference objects, so we don’t have the sense of it being so big.”

“So that’s another thing that’s fake?”

“Not fake. It’s really the moon. It’s just how the brain interprets what you see.”

“Are you sure about this? I thought it would be about light doing something, like the sun not really being yellow.”

"No. It’s an illusion. We can prove it.”

“Ugh, is this going to turn onto a math thing?”

“No. It’s very simple. When the moon first rises, measure it against something you hold at arm’s length.”

“Like what?”

“A ruler, if you had one. Or any object. Um, estimate its size against the neck of the beer bottle. Then later, when the moon is higher, repeat the estimate.”

“So is anything as it appears to be? The moon looks larger than it is; the sun looks a different color from what it is. What else that we see isn’t what it appears to be?”

“You really want to know?”

“I think so.”

“See the Evening Star, just above the horizon? It isn’t a star.”

“Then what it is?”

“A planet. Because the orbits of Mercury and Venus are inside our own orbit, they’re never high in the night sky. So we see them only fairly low in the sky and at dusk or dawn. If you’ve wished on the first star you saw, it wasn’t a star at all, but Venus, a planet.”

“Well, that’s disappointing. Does it mean I won’t get my wish?”

“Camille, do you honestly believe that wishing on a star—or a planet—will get you something?”

“I know it’s unscientific. But haven’t you ever wished for something? Don’t you wish before you blow out the candles on your birthday cake?”

“I’ve wished for something in the sense of wanting something. Of course, I have. But if you mean ‘Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight. Wish I may, wish I might…’ then, no.”

Camille sighed, “If I’m going to wish on Venus instead of a star, I guess my wishes should be about love.”

Richard thought about what Camille said. If he were inclined to make wishes on the Evening Star, he supposed it would be only appropriate to wish for love. But he didn’t believe in wishes. He almost wished he did.

The moon began to appear over the horizon, and they sat in silence, enjoying the view. Camille dutifully measured the moon, and told Richard the measurement, in case she forgot later. 

As she drove back to Richard’s bungalow, Camille said, “So that’s perigee.”

“No, the actual moment of perigee will be at 5:30 tomorrow morning, right around moonset.”

“Aww, come on! Another thing that isn’t what it really is?”

“It’s very nearly at perigee,” said Richard. “You won’t be able to see a difference at 5:30. And you did get to see the brightness and large apparent size.”

“Not good enough, I want to see the real deal!”

“Are you going to stay up all night?”

“Well, I have to stay up for several more hours to finish my experiment. Then I’ll sleep on the beach. Come on, Richard, let’s camp out on the beach. I have the blanket, so we won’t get sandy. We can lie on our backs and look up at the moon.”

“I’m not going to sleep on the beach.”

“Well, then, sit out with me for a while. We can have tea and biscuits, and you can tell me about the constellations. I did promise to listen to astronomical lessons.”


	6. Chapter 6

By the time they reached Richard’s bungalow, Camille had talked him into sitting on the beach long enough to finish her experiment in measuring the moon. Before spreading out the blanket, she dug out some sand to make a hollow with a mound behind it.

“Try this,” she said. “It’s like sitting in a recliner. You sit into the hollow, and lean back on the pile of sand. You can kind of wriggle around to make it fit you better.”

Richard declined to wriggle, but had to admit her beach recliner was surprisingly comfortable. She had dug her own recliner next to his, and they settled in to look at the sky. Camille had trouble identifying the constellations Richard described.

“I have a book of star charts. I should have brought it out here.”

“I’ll get it,” said Camille, fearing that if he went back to the house he wouldn’t return to the beach. “I can make some tea to go with the biscuits. Where is the book?”

“It’s on my desk.”

“Okay, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Camille rooted through kitchen cabinets, looking for tea and mugs. She found a tray so he’d have somewhere not sandy to set down his mug. It was nice to be puttering around in Richard’s kitchen. Cozy, domestic. As she walked out onto the veranda, she thought how nice it would be to live at the beach. Always able to see the ocean, hear the waves. Be with … Be able to sit out and watch the night sky. 

She set the tray down next to Richard and picked up her own mug. She settled down into her depression in the sand. It had started to fill in when she got up, so she had to sit closer to him than she had before. 

“I found your star chart book. Show me some constellations.”

Richard flipped through the book, frowning. “When I first looked at the night sky here, I didn’t realize how different the positions would be. I mean, I _knew_ they would be different, but experiencing it was still surprising. These charts were written for a more northerly latitude. So don’t go by the position in the chart, but look for the groupings, the patterns.”

Richard helped Camille find the Plough, also called the big dipper. He showed her how to use the pointer stars to find the North Star.

“The North Star, also called Polaris, is above the North Pole, so if you can find the star in the sky, you know which direction is north. We’re so far south that it’s very low in the sky. Farther north, it’s higher in the sky.”

“Is it really higher, or is that another fake thing?”

“No, it’s quite real. Now, quiz question. If we were at the North Pole, where would we see the North Star?”

“We wouldn’t see it.”

“Yes we would.”

“I wouldn’t. I’d be indoors, keeping warm.”

Richard sighed. 

“Ohhhkay,” said Camille. “It would be straight above us.”

“Yes, it would.”

“But you’d be outside looking at it by yourself.” She held out the bag, “Have another biscuit, professor.”

“Now that I think about it, we wouldn’t see it tonight.”

“Why? Is it cloudy? How do you know the weather at the North Pole?”

“No, midnight sun. It would be too bright for seeing stars.” And he went off on a tangent about midnight sun and polar nights. 

Camille leaned back and looked at the stars as Richard talked. She didn’t listen closely to what he said; she just let his voice wash over her. She liked his accent. At first his Englishness was annoying, but she had come to appreciate some aspects of it. It was all part of what made him who he was. He did have a nice voice. And, on those rare occasions when it appeared, a lovely smile. On even more rare occasions, an infectious laugh to go with it. 

“Camille, are you awake?”

“Yes.”

“You weren’t interrupting, so I wasn’t sure.”

“I was enjoying listening to you. Is the moon high enough for another measurement? I think it looks smaller than it did.”

“See how it measures.”

Camille held out the beer bottle and looked at the moon. “No way! How can that be? It IS the same size. But it looks smaller than it did earlier.”

“Told you,” Richard smirked.

“Wow, that’s cool. I’m impressed.” Fearing that Richard would think the evening was over, she said, “Teach me some more constellations?”

He showed her the chart, then pointed to some stars. “There’s Leo, the lion. Next to Leo we have Cancer, the crab. They’re part of a band of constellations called the Zodiac.”

“Those are astrology signs!”

“Astrology is not science, Camille.”

“But it must come from science. It’s all about the sun and moon being in different signs.”

“Well, it is true that the Zodiac does correspond with the path of the sun and moon. But the location of the sun with respect to constellations when you were born does not give you some sort of destiny.”

“I don’t know. I’m Aries, a fire sign. And you’re, um, Pisces, right?”

“I don’t know.”

“Richard, everyone knows their sign. You’re late February, which makes you Pisces. That’s a water sign. It figures; you can be a wet blanket sometimes.”

“Only to control your fire before you cause damage,” Richard replied. He couldn’t believe he’d just said that. Yes, she was fiery, and he did feel a need to balance some of that. But would she think he’d just said she was hot?

Camille stifled a laugh. There were so many ways to interpret that last remark. She was about to answer him when he suddenly slapped his arm.

“Damn!” he exclaimed.

“Mosquito?”

“Yes, they love me. Must be because I’m so sweet.”

Camille snorted. She climbed out of her recliner and rooted through her beach bag. 

“I sprayed the edges of the blanket earlier. I’d rather not spray again.” She pulled out some citronella candles, lit them, and set them in the sand at the edges of the blanket. She also set a candle on Richard’s tray.

“See if that helps. I know DEET works, but it’s nasty stuff.”

“And the citronella smells better.”

Camille sighed, “This is nice. Liming under the stars.”

Richard chuckled, “If someone had told me two years ago that I’d be lying on a beach giving astronomy lessons, I’d have said they were crazy.”

“Yet here you are.”

“Yeah,” he said drowsily, “Here I am. You know, the candles remind me of the almost-hurricane. I must have talked for hours before you scolded me. And I’ve lectured all evening again. I’m sorry if you were bored. Thank you for living up to the bargain.”

“I wasn’t bored, Richard. I’m impressed. You know so much. You read serious books. I’m ashamed to say that most of the reading I’ve done since school has been novels.”

“It’s all right that you haven’t worked hard at improving your mind through extensive reading. No one admitted to the privilege of knowing you would find anything wanting.”

Camille turned to look at him. He had that cute little smug smile-smirk on his face. “I know that line. You’re quoting something.”

“Paraphrasing, actually. It’s—”

“No, wait! I’ve almost got it. Let me think for a minute. In my head, I can hear an actor saying it, but I know it’s from a book. Ahhh,” she grinned. “Mr. Darcy, thank you for the lovely compliment!”

They smiled at each other. Camille thought it was a perfect time for him to continue in character and get to the “admire and love” part. But then she remembered how many pages there were between those two conversations. Darcy moved slowly, but Richard’s pace made Darcy seem like a racehorse. Still, she hoped Richard would eventually get there.

Richard let his head fall back and he looked up at the stars again. _In vain I have struggled,_ he thought. He winced at the thought that Camille might reject him as soundly as Elizabeth had rejected Darcy. Like those two characters, he and Camille had not got off to a good start. Things were better now, of course. And although tonight was a good opportunity, he didn’t think they were ready. And there would be complications to face. No, best to go slowly.

Lost in their separate but similar thoughts, they drifted off to sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

A few hours later, Richard woke to find that Camille had rolled onto her side, facing him. She had snuggled close, with her arm across his chest and her thigh resting on his thigh. His arm was stretched next to hers, with his hand resting on the side of her ribs. Still drowsy, he started to slide his hand downward. That woke him completely and he quickly pulled his hand away. Groping her while she was asleep felt downright creepy. What sort of pervert was he, anyhow? He positioned his arm at his side and tried to fall asleep again.

Camille woke when Richard moved suddenly. She’d been having such a nice dream. His body felt tense next to hers. For one crazy moment she was afraid he had died and gone into rigor.

“Richard?” she said softly.

He was wide awake but trying not to look it.

“Richard, are you okay?”

She wasn’t going to let this go so he mumbled, “Hmmm?” and slowly opened his eyes.

“Were you having a bad dream? You feel very tense.”

“Hmm? No, I don’t know,” he continued to counterfeit drowsiness. But he _was_ tense, almost in rigor. Part of him was definitely in rigor. _Oh, God, please don’t let her notice. Think of something. Think of the Comissioner. Think of your careers. Think of Catherine, and what she’d do if she found us like this._

Richard gradually got control of himself and relaxed. He lifted his hand to look at this watch and discovered that his arm, traitor that it was, had moved back to Camille’s body. His hand had been resting on her hip. 

“What time is it?” she asked. “Did we miss perigee?”

“No. A few minutes.”

“So there’s a little time to get closer, then.” Camille held her breath. She hadn’t meant to say anything so suggestive. Really, she hadn’t.

“Not much,” was Richard’s ambiguous reply.

They sat up and watched the moon sink slowly toward the horizon.

“It’s big again!” said Camille.

“What? No!” Richard looked at her and saw that she was looking at the moon. _oh, you mean the moon_ “No, remember, this is the illusion.”

Camille found the bottle and measured. “You’re right. It’s the same size. Even now that I know that, it still looks bigger. What a lot of astronomy I’ve learned. First we went to a festival for sun, now we’ve watched the moon. A good bargain, I’d say.”

“Trading the sun for the moon? There’s a line from an old song. ‘You are the sun, I am the moon.’ Appropriate, don’t you think? You, the fire sign, celebrating the sun and the light it gives off. I’m the moon, far from the sun and only reflecting its light.”

“What song is that?”

“I don’t know. I can remember a bit of the tune.” He hummed a little of the song.

“It sounds sweet.”

“It’s a waltz, odd for a pop ballad. Odd, too, to represent two people as such distant objects as the sun and the moon. Not terribly romantic.”

“Perhaps making them distant objects represents longing?”

“I suppose. I’m not good at poetry and metaphors.” Richard looked back toward his house. “It’s getting light. I think I’m done sleeping. I’ll go in and make some tea. Sorry, I don’t have any coffee.”

“Tea would be fine.”

Richard stood, brushed off some sand, and said, “I’ll bring it out when it’s ready.”

Camille dug out her phone and did a search. She found the song. How did Richard know a song from the early seventies? The lyrics of the song seemed a bit jumbled, but she did see some metaphors for differences. She got to the line about sun and moon and was surprised at the line that followed. She packed up the candles and blanket and walked to the house.

Richard had the tea mugs in his hands when he saw Camille on the veranda.

“I was going to take this out to you on the beach.”

“That’s okay. I think you’ve suffered through enough sand.” She sat at the little table, and he sat across from her. She set a bag on the table. “Have a biscuit. There are still a few left.”

“For breakfast?”

“For any meal. It’s nutritious. Flour, eggs…”

“Sugar,” he added.

“Yes, but these aren’t overly sweet like the sugar cakes.”

They sat in silence for a while, then Camille spoke.

“I Googled that song. How do you know a song that’s forty years old?”

Richard shrugged, “I head it somewhere. Don’t you ever hear a song and get it stuck in your head?”

“Sometimes. But everything you read and hear sticks in your head. Do you have a photographic memory?”

“No. I just absorb a frightening amount of information. Sometimes I do wonder how I store it all.”

“Well, since you didn’t store the entire song, I found the lyrics online. The line after the sun and moon is ‘You are the words, I am the tune.’ That doesn’t sound like distance. Words and music are different, but they go together. Each needs the other.” _Like us._

Richard sat staring into his mug.

Camille broke the silence. “You never asked for your amendment to our bargain. I got you to do a lot of things you didn’t expect to do, so I ought to honor my part of the deal.”

“I think…” he sighed. “No, much as I hate to say it, I _know_ what it has to be. Go home, Camille. Leave now while I still have some self-control left.”

“I suppose I should. So…” Camille stood and looked down at Richard. “I’ll go. But someday, Richard. Someday, we’re gonna have our own perigee, regardless of what the moon is doing. And I promise you, we’ll make great fireworks.”

She sealed the promise with a kiss and left. Richard watched her walk away and wondered how he was going to survive until that happened.


End file.
